


The Back Scratch

by Xenobotanist



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: After-sex Conversation, Anal Sex, Back Scratching, Bottom Julian Bashir, Cardassian Anatomy, Cardassian Culture, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Massage, Smut, They Keep Talking, Top Elim Garak, why isn't that already a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25532626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist
Summary: A quiet morning back scratch evolves in a rather pleasant fashion.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 5
Kudos: 133





	The Back Scratch

**Author's Note:**

> I linked any Cardassian anatomy terms to their reference pages, in case you don't know them.  
> (But I'm pretty sure most of you do)

He sat up and stretched, lanky arms reaching for the ceiling, mouth open in a jaw-cracking yawn. The pull in his lower back was a warm burn, and he felt a few vertebrae pop. Julian Bashir _loved_ a good morning stretch.

He glanced over at the body next to him, who didn’t love a good morning _anything._ The blanket had been dragged down to his waist, exposing a gray expanse with a scaly pattern that looked deceptively delicate. He knew from experience that the hide was tough as armor, though, vulnerable to only the roughest of handling, as evidenced by the barely-noticeable half-moon imprints just under his shoulder blades. Julian was sure he sported a matching pair, only much deeper, and probably bruising.

As stealthily as he could (don’t wake a sleeping dragon), he shifted to get a better look. The plates across his bedmate’s upper back were large and flat, following the Cardassian equivalents of the trapezius and deltoid muscles. They grew smaller as they descended, until fading into rough skin over the obliques. But along the spine, the scales grew thicker into three vertical ridges. It reminded him vaguely of creatures in the _Crocodilia_ family, only these were flattened, rather than serrated. He quietly admired them, knowing he could spend a whole day tracing and learning the names of each knob, crest, and scale. Had, in fact, once done so.

“I can feel you staring at me,” mumbled a grumpy voice from between the pillows.

How did he do that?

“Sorry, love. I can’t help it. Your skin is like a work of art. Like a large, cool lump of clay that someone kneaded and pinched into a masterpiece. _Elim in Gray._ ”

“I _feel_ like a large, cool lump of clay. Pull the cover back up.”

“Yes, dear.” But first, he bent over to place a kiss on the back of the man’s neck while giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“Mmmph.” Oops. He’d have to get used to that. He’d forgotten how sensitive the Cardassian [humerocollic ridge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949294/chapters/60389701) was. What was their term for it? Right, the _liad’Um_. Just as he reached back to pull up the cover, he was interrupted. “Wait a moment, my dear. As long as you’re there, could you give me a quick scratch? These new sheets tickle.”

Julian grinned to himself. Elim never wanted just a “quick scratch;” he leaned toward hedonistic when it came to his back. “Of course. Would you like me to get your lotion?”

“No… just your hands is fine. You haven’t trimmed your nails again, have you?”

“Elim, I have to keep them short. I’m a _doctor_. It’s basic hygiene. But you’re lucky.” He patted the blanketed rear fondly. “I’m due for another trim today, so they’re _just_ a little longer than usual right now.” With that, he reached his right hand up and drew his nails down the rough back, right between the spinal ridges. A deep, muffled groan sounded from the top of the bed. He repeated the gesture down the right side of the back, then the left, enjoying the texture beneath his fingertips as they rose and fell over the corrugated skin.

“The neck, too.”

He reached up under Elim’s hair to the base of the scalp, grazing downward a few times. Tiny black spots began to speckle the surface like freckles, although their appearance was more comparable to goosebumps. “How are we doing?” A faint wiggle was the only response. Encouraged, he got up to straddle the prostrate figure, leaving most of his weight on his knees rather than the man under him. However, it was easier now to use both hands, so he returned to scraping gently down the back, top to midsection, over and over. He started at the outside and worked his way in, gradually digging his nails in deeper as he approached the center.

“You’re doing a wonderful, job my dear.”

“I had a very demanding teacher.”

“Give him my compliments.”

Julian rolled his eyes.

“I felt that, too.”

How _did_ he do that?

Finally, a face haloed by mussed-up hair emerged from the pillows. Elim crooked one arm up over the pillow to rest his head on, allowing him to observe Julian out his peripheral vision. “A little pinching wouldn’t be remiss.”

“Greedy this morning, aren’t we?” But he obeyed, squeezing the ridges up and down the spine between his thumbs and forefingers. It seemed as if this morning might be turning into an exception to the rule, and he wasn’t going to pass up the chance for a little more intimacy before starting his day. He moved his hands south, kneading into the lower spine. When no protests were forthcoming, he pressed his thumbs into the dip just above the rise of Elim’s rear, provoking a different type of moan and a tiny arch of the back. It was more of a massage now, his thumbpads working little circles into the smoother skin. Was that a moan or a growl this time? He returned to using his nails, all of them now, and raked them over the lower third of the back.

 _That_ was definitely a hiss.

Feeling a stir in his briefs, he scooted back so that he was straddling gray thighs and better able to relax his own legs. It also allowed him to nudge oh-so-innocently into the plump behind as he kneaded his way back up toward the shoulders, his attention to the _liad’Um_ intentional this time around. He pressed and stroked casually, not wanting to move things too quickly just yet. Even so, the hand under Elim’s chin flexed a couple times. The spy thought he had mastered a poker face, but Julian knew his tells. A little hitch in the breathing when he pressed _here_ , a twitch in the jaw when he pinched _there_. As both a doctor and a human in possession of insatiable curiosity, he could read his lover like an open padd.

Humming to himself, he thrust gently into the mounds of flesh against his hips, enjoying the slow and pleasant swelling it produced in his own body. He bent over, pressing his lips to the top of Elim’s back, kissing the uppermost central ridge. A deeper voice hummed back. His lips trailed down to the next knob, and the next, and the next, connecting his mouth to the thick scales down the spine. As he descended, he began to also slip his tongue _between_ the ridges.

Elim had turned his face toward the head of the bed to hide any betraying expressions, but the reflexive bowing of his back communicated clearly just what effect the licks were eliciting. Julian realized he was enjoying it too. Dipping and flicking with his tongue, the smooth-but-rugged texture reminding him of _other_ ridged parts of Elim’s anatomy. He reached the hollow at the base of his back, just above the arse, and lay the flat of his tongue into the groove, licking a thick stripe upward. Another hiss echoed back to him. He wondered idly how long the two of them could keep this up.

Lying, now flat between the gray legs, he rested his elbows on the outside of each thigh, his hands gripping just below Elim’s waist. As he licked, kissed, and nibbled at the lower back, his hands massaged the muscles above the hips. On a human, the tissues might be ticklish, but for a Cardassian, the sensation was downright sensual. He squeezed and pushed with his thumbs and fingers, glad that the tailor had finally overcome his self-consciousness about the slight thickness in this region. He liked knowing that the man full of razor-sharp wit and cutting insults had a few softer edges as well.

Elim had begun to squirm under his touch. “My dear, if you are quite through with tasting and kneading me, I do believe I’m done impersonating a lump of dough.”

“Mmm. My lovely Elim. Look at what lust has done to you; you’re mixing metaphors. But I can keep up. Let’s see… dough…” He hummed in the back of his throat. “Are you ready for me to slip you into the oven? Or do you think you need a little _pounding_ first?”

He was prepared for the combination growl-roar that accompanied the Cardassian’s end of passive participation and hastily wrapped his arms around Elim’s legs, trapping the bucking figure from flipping over.

“You impertinent—what do you— _Julian!”_ Elim’s sputtering indignance was adorably delicious. Unable to resist himself, he bit down on one pebbled arse cheek. Hard. “Aghh!”

But Elim was well-versed in close combat and wrestling techniques, while Julian was more of a racquetball and fencing sort of chap. He shortly found himself flipped over and on the floor. A solid gray body toppled onto him, crushing his air out with an “Oof!” The assault continued with a return bite right over the pulse point on his neck while two hands pinned his shoulders, and an incredibly swollen [_ajan_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479) ground into his groin. Yes, the time for slow and easy was past.

He wrapped his legs around Elim’s waist, hooking his ankles together as his hands roved the rises and dips of the ridged chest, then slid his tongue into the divot of the [_chufa_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479) that had appeared tantalizingly close to his mouth.

Another growl erupted from between the teeth that had sunken into his throat, clearly a warning, but whether it was to continue or desist, he didn’t care. He flicked his tongue up and down quickly while thrusting his hips against the heated scales that were nestled against his cock. A fantastic shudder shook Elim’s body as his control unraveled even farther. The tailor’s bites became sucking instead, and Julian felt the skin of his throat burn as blood rushed to the surface. That was going to leave a hell of a bruise. But it did serve to remind him not to neglect his lover’s neck, which had darkened even more, the center of each scale a deep charcoal.

As Elim persisted in marking the tender skin under his jaw, he gripped the _liad’Um_ on each shoulder and began working his nails around the divots in a pinching motion but not actually pinching. There were new ones coming in underneath, doubly sensitive, which meant that as he dug lightly under the upper plates, the softer ones were being gently ground into.

Elim’s head tossed back as he cried out. “Oh! No nails, please, oh dear.” Julian switched to the pads of his fingertips, rapidly wiggling them into the perfectly-sized hollows. Elim’s eye squeezed shut and he gasped, everting into the nest of hair at Julian’s groin. Julian shifted a centimeter to the left, forcing their erections to brush, and they both moaned, thrusting lightly into each other with hitches and twists.

Elim dropped his forehead to Julian’s brow, and they gazed blearily at one another. It felt like tiny electric shocks were zapping the skin around Julian’s sensitized shaft as Garak’s slick [_pr’Ut_ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479)grazed his own time and again. They both began to gasp and grip each other tighter, riding the heady sensations.

“Elim—” Julian panted. “Oh god. I love you. I want you. I ah—” There was a deep tug growing between his thighs that he fought to hold back. “Ohhh, it’s too soon. Stop, stop…” He stilled his hips.

The motion above him ceased. Mostly. Elim began to slowly slide down his body through the loop of Julian’s still-locked legs, kissing his lips, his chin, his clavicle. He could feel every point of contact against the Cardassian hide, down the length of his chest and abdomen, ridges stimulating but cool, except where the heat was concentrated lower down. “Do you want to return to the bed?” the tailor asked sweetly, canting his hips so that the tip of his _pr’Ut_ tapped Julian’s perineum.

Fire flared at the contact, and Julian curled his toes reflexively. The bed was undeniably softer, but that would mean disentangling. They were already in the perfect position, but would the rug burn be worth it? With the existence of dermal regenerators, the answer was a resounding _yes._ “We can stay here,” he responded heatedly with a squeeze of his thighs around Elim’s chest.

He was rewarded with an intense grin. Bracing himself of one arm, Elim used his other hand to guide himself between folds and into the pulsing entrance eagerly awaiting him. Julian hissed, not in pain but pleasure as additional nerves were awakened. Leisurely pushing in inch by tortuous inch, he could feel his insides being expanded, filled, _massaged_ intimately by the lubricated, ribbed organ. 

When Elim could enter no further, they found themselves once again face-to-face, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. Locking eyes, Elim ran his hand along Julian’s arm from shoulder to wrist, drawing it up to rest on the sheets next to his head. In a Cardassian gesture, he set his fingertips together in the very center of Julian’s palm, then spread them outward, drawing them over the skin to stop at the junctures between fingers, just over the light webbing. The digits slipped between, just enough to press his nails into the delicate flesh. It was considered extremely erotic by Elim’s people, a mating symbol that signified the blending of bodies while stimulating erogenous tissues. The first time they performed it, Julian had been pleasantly surprised to discover that it worked equally well on Humans. It was as if they were joined not just between their legs but hand to hand as well.

Thus situated, Elim began a slow, rolling, circular movement of his hips, teasing at Julian’s rim while stimulating his own [_irllun_ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719479)at the base of his member. Julian raised his hips, content to feel the pressure without any urgency just yet, and knowing that it was exactly what his lover wanted. They watched each other’s faces, gauging and memorizing each gasp, flick of tongue, and flutter of eyelids.

The rotation of Elim’s hips merged into a push and pull until he was fulling pumping into Julian, and the tempo began to increase. Their bodies rocked and clenched, scaled chest rubbing over smooth brown skin and taut nipples. Their mouths crashed together, lips parting and closing, tongues mingling as they rutted, pace becoming erratic as Elim’s pelvis snapped into Julian’s over and over. Julian clenched around him, arching his back so that the tip of the _pr’Ut_ collided his sweet spot. “Yes, yes!” he cried out. Elim pulled almost all of the way out and rammed in, hard. And again. Again. Julian lost the ability to use words as fire rippled outward from that point. “Oh, oh, ah, ahhhh—” Elim’s ragged breathing caught and he bucked, a guttural but almost silent groan escaping as he came inside his lover. Julian felt the swell and release fill him up, and his entire existence compressed into a single pinpoint of ecstasy, somehow simultaneously inside him and somewhere else altogether. His vision blanked out and he exploded.

As his senses slowly returned, Julian finally unlocked his legs from around Elim’s waist, wincing at the over-stretched muscles and sore ankles. At least one was going to be bruised. He flopped bonelessly onto the carpet, then grimaced. His back was raw.

Elim slowly retracted out of him and relaxed over him, kissing him lightly on the shoulder before placing his head there. Julian reached up to idly play with the smooth, straight hair.

After an indeterminate amount of time, the couple finally brushed themselves off and returned to bed. Well, Julian did, and Elim excused himself, returning with a wet towel and dermal regenerator. He deftly wiped them both down, then rolled Julian over onto his stomach. “Let’s take care of this before it begins to sting, shall we?”

“Mmph. Yes, please.” He felt a warmth over the center of his back and a slight prickle as the epidermis knitted itself back together. “It’s only fair, after all I did for you.”

Elim’s reply was a sound that he would vehemently deny could be called a snort or grunt. “Any other places, my dear?”

Julian sighed. He’d love to keep the no-doubt dark and sizable marks on his neck, but they tended to distract his patients. “Could you erase your artwork over the top part of my neck, for propriety’s sake? But you can leave anything that would be covered by my collar.”

“Must I?” Elim lamented. “How else am I supposed to deter any freighter captains or lusty ensigns from trying to steal you away?”

Julian chuckled. “I suppose you could borrow Worf’s bat’leth and pace the infirmary menacingly.” Which he knew would never happen, because Elim wouldn’t dare set foot in that office unless he was carried in there unconscious. Which had happened no fewer than three times. “Or, you know, you could just have lunch with me every day, and shower me with rich fabrics and Delavian chocolates so that I can parade around looking and smelling like a proper dandy with a jealous lover.”

“I already do and you already are.”

“Well then. There’s nothing to worry about, is there?”

There was a click as the device shut off. “What if I just stood _outside_ the infirmary with a phaser set on stun?”

“Odo would probably yell at you for loitering on the promenade. And Jadzia would tease you mercilessly.” He knew the second one would be the clincher.

“Ah well.” Elim heaved a sigh and set the regenerator on the nightstand. They both stretched out on their sides, facing each other, the tailor pulling a blanket back up to cover them. A blissful haze settled over Julian as he snuggled in. His companion returned to his belly, tucking the top of the blanket over his shoulders before burrowing his head back into the pillows. Peace settled in the air around the bed, and Julian could feel himself beginning to doze off.

Right back where they started.

**Author's Note:**

> • How many of these fics am I going to keep pumping out? (sorry, Freudian slip) I think my brain is subconsciously trying to get as much done as possible before school starts back up. After August, I’ll probably only be able to write on the weekends.  
> • Also, I just learned that “blue” can be a term used to describe a “joke, movie, or story with sexual or pornographic content.” So now I’m going to have to join all of the other authors who write Cardassians as blushing that color, lol. Cheers!  
> • Lastly: I’m thinking about changing my pseud because I don’t like the one I have now. Those of you who regularly read and comment, what are your thoughts? I’d love to know! (leaning toward Xenobotanist for my new name)


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